winds esker               
  
                                          
 there was this place that  for two years 
 i couldn't  go  to. regardless how  much 
 discussed with  others,  or  pointed out 
 on maps, i could  not  think  of it when 
 alone.  i  would  often travel past  the 
 fork,  where a  right turn would  surely 
 take me  there, but even then, something 
               kept me away.              
                                          
 when  i  finally got there,  after  some 
     heavy subconscious battle i must     
 assume,   the  place  was  surreal.   an 
 esker, like  a  needle-thin rift out  in 
 the  lake,   but  ten  meters  high  and 
 adorned in birch, willow,  bracken,  and 
               blueberries.               
                                          
 walking  atop  that  spine,  i  came  to 
 notice the view to  either  side.  there 
 should  be  shores,  of  course,  but  i 
 didn't  recognize them. first  off, they 
 were much too  close, as the lake should 
 stretch  for  a hundred  meters more  on 
 both  sides.  but now  i  felt  i  could 
 almost  reach out  and  touch them.  and 
 then, when i  realized which shores they 
           were, i had to stop.           
                                          
 they  were of the  right lake. but  this 
      lake is large, fractured, and       
 bipartite.  like a pair  of lungs carved 
 into the granite, and  with no less than 
   five communities anchored at various   
      points. and so, studying these      
     impossibly close shores, i slowly    
 understood them as belonging  many miles 
                   away.                  
                                          
 i  examined   the  ridge,  the  treeline 
 above. was  this what  you saw opposite, 
 from  those  other  shores?  i  couldn't 
                 remember.                
                                          
 carrying forward,  on  the  very tip  of 
 the esker,  i found  the  ruins of  some 
    old building. there were overgrown    
 marble staircases, stone floors beneath  
 the  moss,  and strange  slabs  inserted 
 into the slope  like  dams  against  the 
              ground itself.              
                                          
 sitting there, i  could  see across  the 
 narrowed lake my entire path  to where i 
 sat:  from  the stairwell of  my  house, 
 through the old  woods  behind  the tile 
      factory, the bridge over route      
 twenty three  and  then  back under  it, 
 through  the  fancy   villas,  over  the 
 fields, and then  that right turn at the 
                   fork.                  
                                          
 and  then  the  stairs up  on the ridge. 
 thinking  back,  this  was  probably it. 
 hidden  in a  grove, there  were  stairs 
 much like the  ones i  currently sat on, 
 old  and  worn down,  that  lead you  up 
 onto the esker. the point of  entry. had 
 i insted opted to walk the  path  at its 
 foot, i'm  sure my  experience  would've 
          been different indeed.          
                                          
  
                                          
 on   the  lake,  there  were  people  in 
 boats. i  wondered, could they even  see 
 me?  if i shouted, would  they  turn  to 
          stare right through me?